212 WITH THE WOODLANDERS. 



were part of the common lands, cultivation has not 

 quite got rid of the vegetation indigenous to common 

 land. No matter what the farmer may think, the 

 birds know this is their own feeding-range. For 

 the hedge-dykes that surround these rough pastures 

 have a growth of their own, of kixes, wild parsnips, 

 mothmullein, long grass, and brambles, all which are 

 very long in decaying. They dry up hard and droop 

 down ; their stems may be broken by the winds, but 

 there they are, snow-covered certainly, but warmly 

 covering in the dry ditches below them, thus forming 

 fine warm shelters for the partridges. Birds do not 

 feel cold as common humanity does ; for quite 

 putting on one side the feather quilts with which 

 they are covered, their blood is much hotter than 

 our own that of game-birds particularly so. 



There they are, about the middle of the field, 

 heads down, backs up, and their tails drooped, busily 

 feeding round the dead stems of some weeds and 

 low brambles. Ten or a dozen of them there are, I 

 fancy ; for you can always count for more than you 

 can see at all times, and we can plainly see the 

 bunched-up backs of nine. 



They are picking and scratching round and 



